


A Voice in the Dark

by potooyoutoo



Category: DCU
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, I'm Sorry, Past Character Death, This Does Not End Well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:50:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potooyoutoo/pseuds/potooyoutoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission goes wrong and Jason tries his best to offer what comfort he can. After all, death is something he's familiar with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Voice in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> I would like to apologize for this. It just occurred to me that Tim is the only Robin who hasn't joined the Dead Robin Club in canon (as far as I know...), so I had to fix it.
> 
> Many thanks to my ever lovely editor, [CasualThursday](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualThursday/pseuds/CasualThursday). My dear, you're a gem.

They all hear it over the comms, a sudden cacophony of gunfire followed by a telltale thud. Surprisingly, it’s Damian who shouts, “ _Drake? What happened?_ ”

When there’s no response, Dick is shouting, fear evident in his voice, “ _Tim? TIM?!_ ”

There’s a sharp, rattling intake of breath and Jason immediately knows the situation can’t be good. Before Dick has the chance, he’s already pulling up the kid’s twenty, snapping, “Nightwing! He’s at the docks, warehouse thirty-one. You’re the closest, but…” Jason trails off, looking again at the distance. “Just… hurry.”

“ _G-Guys?_ ” Tim’s voice is weak and pained, soft and staticky in Jason’s ear.

“We’re here, babybird. Nightwing’s on his way, but you’ve gotta keep talking to me.” Jason starts running in Tim’s direction, even though he knows he won’t get there in time. A loud, gurgling cough fills his ear and Jason doubles his pace. “Calm down, babybird. You’re alright. Just talk to me. What do you see?”

“ _There…_ ” Tim tries, voice shaky as he attempts not to hyperventilate and cause even more blood to seep into his lungs. “ _There’s crates, and...a-a door…_ ”

“Good, that’s good, kid. What else?”

“ _Jay…_ ”

Jason can hear the tremor, the straining in his voice. “Yeah?”

“ _I’m scared._ ”

He feels like his chest’s been hit by a truck, his breath catching at the vulnerability there. Flashes of phantom pain, of fire and metal blind him for a moment. Taking a calming breath of his own, Jason soothes, “I know, babybird. I know.”

Tim’s voice is even softer now, his breathing labored. “ _What… what’s it feel like?_ ”

Jason can hear Dick choke, but Jason ignores him, focusing on Tim. “A bit like falling asleep after a really bad patrol.”

Tim makes some sort of choking noise that Jason thinks might be nervous laughter before he’s swallowing thickly, tears staining his words now. “ _I… Jay, I don’t wanna to die…_ ”

“I know, babybird.”

“ _I don’t wanna be alone…_ ”

Jason can feel his own tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, blurring his domino lenses slightly. He grits out, “I’m here, babybird. I’m right here. You’re alright.” Jason’s never run so hard in his life. He can see the lights of the harbor now, but they’re just too far away.

“ _Jay… I can’t feel anything…_ ”

He sounds so utterly terrified, and Jason’s stomach lurches. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

“ _Jay, I… I don’t want… don’t want them to…_ ” Tim chokes on another cough or sob, Jason can’t tell, but he knows what he meant.

“Don’t worry, babybird. I won’t let that happen.”

“ _J...Jay?_ ”

And Jason knows, deep down in his heart, that this is it. “Yeah, Tim?”

There’s a small smile in his words. “ _Thank you…_ ”

The comm falls silent and Jason whispers, “Anytime, Tim, anytime,” more to himself than anyone else. The silence is crushing, and only a moment later, Jason can hear Dick arriving at the warehouse.

“ _Tim? Tim!? TIM!_ ”

He’s screaming, sobbing for Tim to wake up, and Jason can only imagine Dick attempting to shake Tim awake. With an empty feeling in his stomach, Jason says, “He’s gone, Dick. Let him go.”

“ _NO! We could still--_ ”

“LET HIM GO!”

Dick’s pained sobs fill his ears as Jason races through the warehouses, finding the right one and ducking inside. The scene’s just as bad as he’d imagined: Tim, lying in a pool of blood, at least five bullet holes riddling his stomach and chest, is held limply in Dick’s shaking arms, his domino hiding lifeless eyes from view. Jason can barely move, reaching up to slowly unclasp his helmet and let it drop to the ground. Dick turns at the sound, his domino already torn off and eyes bloodshot as tears stream down his face.

“Jason…” His voice is hoarse, agonized, and his expression is lost. Dick can’t understand, can’t process any of this.

Jason feels as if he’s floating as he walks forward, removing his own mask and kneeling next to his brothers. Slowly, he pulls Tim from Dick’s arms, laying his body on the floor gently. In one quick motion, Jason removes his jacket, laying it over Tim’s face. As he’s doing this, Dick simply sits, starting to hyperventilate as he stares at where Tim had been lying in his arms. Gently, Jason reaches over, pulling his brother into his arms as Dick’s wracked with another wave of anguished sobbing. He’s not sure how long they stay like that before Damian and Bruce show up, but Jason’s slow to acknowledge them, still clutching a now trembling, but quiet, Dick.

Damian moves forward slowly, pained gaze lingering on Tim’s body as he approaches the two of them. Jason’s surprised by how gently the boy removes his arms from their near death grip on Dick. “Grayson…”

Dick doesn’t respond, but he follows willingly as Damian guides him to his feet, shepherding him away from the scene. It’s only then that Jason hears the far off sound of police sirens. Slowly, he stands, eyes turning to meet Bruce’s now uncovered ones. Jason can’t remember ever seeing so much raw emotion, so much pain in Bruce’s eyes before, and briefly, he wonders if Bruce had been like this when he’d died. He doesn’t trust his voice to stay steady as he starts, “Bruce… I--”

But then Jason’s being enveloped in a crushing embrace, one he hadn’t felt in years, and suddenly he’s breaking, the tears flooding down his cheeks as he tries to speak. Everything is rushing back to him: the terror, the loneliness, the pain, the emptiness. Jason remembers everything, wants to tell Bruce how he tried, tried to help Tim, but there just wasn’t time. But none of the words can make it past his lips, none of the guilt or the fear can claw its way out except as silent, choking sobs.

 

\--x--

 

The funeral is well attended, and Jason hangs back, partially hidden behind a large oak. After all, it would have been a little strange for a dead man to show up at a funeral. He watches silently as one by one, visitors toss flowers into the open grave: Kon, Cassie, Cassandra, Bart, Kori, Stephanie, Damian, Dick… There are others, too, people Jason doesn’t know the names of, and doesn’t really care. Clark and Diana are there, some of the other Leaguers as well. Even Roy shows up for a moment to pay his respects.

When all the people have trickled away, Jason ambles over, hands in his pockets. He can smell the freshness of the dirt and he suppresses a small shudder. Tim’s grave stone is fairly simple, nothing to show for all the good he’d done for Gotham and the world. But Jason supposes Tim would have wanted it that way. Just next to it, a little more worn, is his own headstone. He’d laugh, but seeing it beside Tim’s is too painful. It was never supposed to have been like this.

Jason’s spent his fair share of time between Tim’s death and the funeral obsessing over what he could have done, what he _should_ have done. But all he can think of is that Timothy Drake should never have been Robin in the first place. Jason’s gravestone mocks him, reminding him of how he had failed, how, if only he had been better, faster, smarter, the grave beside it wouldn’t exist. He knows he tried his best, but Jason supposes his best is just never going to be good enough. For all the anger he had once nursed, Jason knows that he’d never actually hated Tim. In fact, he’s fairly certain he had been in awe of just how great of a Robin he’d been. And it hurt, to know he’d let Tim down one last time.

Soft footfalls warn him of Dick’s approach. Jason doesn’t bother to turn, watching as Dick moves into his peripheries and pauses, looking at the graves in silence for a moment. “You know,” Dick begins, his voice still a bit raw from crying, “Tim never blamed you for any of what happened between you guys.” Jason glances sideways, watching as Dick looks up towards the sky. “He told me once that even though he’d idolized me as Robin, you were the one who he would always imagine, flying up there over the rooftops. He might not have shown it, but I don’t think Tim would have minded if you had wanted to take the mantle back.”

Jason humphs. “Not sure Bruce would have let me anyway.”

Dick glances at him. “You know, Bruce heard you, over the comms that night. We all did.”

Jason stiffens, mind replaying that final conversation in terrifying detail.

“He’s proud of you, Jason. We all are. What you did…” he starts to choke up a bit, and Jason can’t help but feel some tears threatening at the corners of his eyes as Dick continues, “What you did for Tim, talked him through that, made sure he wasn’t alone? You didn’t have to do that, Jason, but you did. You made sure he didn’t have to be afraid.” Dick falls silent for a moment, clearly trying to collect himself. “I don’t know what it’s like, Jason, but… You didn’t let him down, you’ve never let him down, so don’t you think for a _second_ that you should have done more. You did for Tim what _none of us_ did for you.”

They both have tears on their faces as Dick pulls Jason in for a hug. He doesn’t resist, just lets his brother hold him because Jason knows they’re both feeling it, that hollow realization that they know the price, but that doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am aware that Tim probs wears copious amounts of body armor, but for the sake of drama I had to sacrifice some of his common sense. My apologies.


End file.
